Sunday came and I found myself getting ready, excited to attend our final Christmas show recital. It was Olivia’s last holiday performance as a senior, and it struck me all at once that seventeen years have passed in a blink. Where did all this time go? The days feel long while you’re living them, yet the years slip by before you even have a chance to catch your breath.
All those seasons of gathering our family for the holiday show came back to me. The performance has always been something special, a bright spot that lifts my mood just as the weather turns cold and dreary. It marks the beginning of Christmas, with all its magic, love, and giving.
She looked beautiful on that stage. I felt like the proudest father in the audience. Every routine showed how much she’s grown, how hard she’s worked, and how steadily she has become her own person. I remembered those early performances when she was small and nervous, and how each year she stepped out there with more confidence and talent. All the practices, the patience, the late nights, the dedication were visible in every movement.
I’m grateful to my wife for the countless hours she devoted to making it all possible—practices, recitals, overnight trips—staying steady through the friendship drama, cliques, breakups, and reunions that came with growing up.
My pride in Olivia is beyond words. I always admired the seniors who stayed committed long enough to reach that moment when they received their flowers. Watching her become one of them felt surreal. Life moves quickly, and moments like this reveal everything that mattered along the way.
I think about how many things I never finished myself, which makes me even more grateful that my children have their own sense of follow-through. They see things through to the end. They carry a strength that feels like its own kind of blessing. Every day I feel lucky to be their father, and especially blessed to have a daughter as talented, determined, and beautiful as Olivia.
When the show reached the March of the Wooden Soldiers, my thoughts drifted to my parents. I felt the ache of knowing they weren’t physically with us after all the years they sat in those seats cheering her on, and sometimes dozing off. They didn’t get to see her big senior moment. That ache lasted only a heartbeat before a sense of comfort settled in. I knew they were with us in their own way, watching from a place we couldn’t see, feeling pride and joy beyond anything we could imagine.
Sitting beside my brother reminded me how grateful I am for him. He has been steady through every chapter of our lives, carrying memories only the two of us share and bringing a sense of grounding and humor that makes our family feel whole. We were still very much the little boys who grew up wrestling, laughing, and knocking into one another. He is the last piece of our original tribe, and having him there made the night feel complete.
Our extended family filled the row around us, in-laws who have become as real and true as any blood relative. Their presence added warmth to the evening and reminded me how lucky and blessed we are to have such a circle.
By the end of the night, I felt refilled with love. The kind that settles deep inside you long after the lights fade, quietly reminding you that every step, every year, and every moment is a beautiful mystery worth living.
Life with Chicken and Broccoli 